Worth the Wait
by TinyStories
Summary: Steve Rogers, focused only in War after the disasters of the 30s. But where does that leave Tony? established Steve/Tony, small amount of Bucky/Steve and some time travel.
1. Chapter 1

"You're leaving?"

Tony Stark never wanted to be in this position, never wants to be in this place ever again.

Momentarily between hell and a location of limbo, all the while Steve proceeds to locking his lips over Tony's neck, mumbling something non complicatedly.

Tony repels, Tony pushes, Tony claws against an arm.

"What?" his voice comes out louder than intended.

Steve struggles and consists on resuming his advances, only to pressed away again.

"I said I'm leaving next week." he huffs. "Now can I_ please _enjoy my last week?"

Wrong choice of words, before he could say take back his words Tony withdraws completely and the game is over even before it began.

"You ASSHOLE." Stark walks away screaming, pulling his discarded money signifying clothes with him. "You spend all your time with that damn Barnes of yours and then you come here, fucking 'Oh, sorry Tony, forgot to mention. I'm enlisting next month.'"

"Hey, don't bring Bucky into this." His voice is rising, almost as invading as Tony's.

"Why do you even want to go Rogers? We both know your body ain't cut out for it. Is it Barnes? He forcing you into this or he giving you head for joining? Is that it?"

Silence.

Tony Stark never wanted to be in this place ever again, because the next thing he remembers is a strange ringing in his ears before Rogers' knuckles knocks a new sort of pain into his system, his nose to be specific. And Tony is incapable of doing anything to standing back and covering his face with his hands in defence, blankly watching Steve's face as his actions catch up to him.

"Tony, I'm so so-"

"No. I'm out Rogers. I'm gone."

Tony Stark is out of there in seconds, hastily correcting the last of his shirt buttons.

That's it. He really fucked up this time.

A few hours pass, and Steve finds himself comfortable in an armchair facing a dark haired man of near 6 feet, almost as towering as Steve himself. Both were in possession of a cheap glass of rum at hand.

And it's nice, Steve finds. With Bucky there's no drama, much less than the likes of the Starks anyway although he doesn't ever hold it against them. Tony was worth it, he thinks to himself.

"Look, way I see it."

Oh yeah, he was in a conversation, or rather Bucky was the one doing the talking and Steve just taking some form of comfort in company.

"Shimson may be a fool in the field, but I'm starting to think he's right about one thing." Bucky takes a swig of the mild alcohol.

"War is helping the world, maybe not for the folks dying or even those involved, but the economy's getting better."

Steve figures it might be the polite thing to do, inputting something once in a while.

"Yeah? And you think money's all that matters?"

It might have come out much more accusing than he had intended because instantly he watched his friend's face scrunch up, in more anger than he'd seen.

"You're the one fucking Tony fucking Stark. You don't mean to tell me you're not with him for the money?"

And suddenly even Bucky's company had turned sour, he rushed to his feet, slamming the glass down onto the wooden table and hearing it shatter.

Before he can take leave, he hears a pleading voice, "Steve, I'm sorry. That was outta line. _Please_, look my family died because of the damn crash in Wallstreet."

Steve's eyes flickers back, slightly softer than they were seconds before. He returns to the warm armchair, maybe it was drowning hum of the drink he had been consuming or maybe he was feeling so desperately lonely tonight. Probably the latter.

Bucky clears his throat, lowers his gaze down to the small pool of rum he held in his palms.

"The family business took it quite hard, we ran this small shop off Brooklyn...there was me, my parents and my big brother, Benjamin." With another gulp, he persists. "I was only about eight or nine at the time, times got so desperate. Our little shop went bust within a couple of months, we were barely supporting ourselves before the crash anyway. We went to the streets for a while, never had anything to eat." Steve didn't know what to say, he didn't know if his words would help at all. So he just listens.

"We begged and stole, but y'know, everyone was tight on money and my mom passed away after a couple weeks. She caught some disease, and her system wasn't doing so well what with the lack of shelter and food. Ben too, he made it to his 12th birthday."

"Oh god, Bucky, I'm so sorry."

He looks back up, and he just looks devastatingly, numb.

"It's fine...Dad went and killed himself a while later, he couldn't take the death of his wife and his favourite son. I guess I can understand. I got found by this old couple after that, Julie and Charlie Edwin, best thing that ever happened to me."

Steve was even more at a loss of words, he'd only met Bucky Barnes a few months ago and he realises that he'd had an easy life compared to Bucky, he hadn't suffered at all.

"Bucky, I'm sor-"

"Shut up, will you? I'm alive, aren't I?"

What happened next was not what Steve had been expecting at all, there was a flash of movement and the next thing he felt was Bucky's lips on his.

There was a silent breath between them and the alcohol must have gotten to him, as ineffective as it was because he was allowing the tongue into his mouth and he was letting it all happen.

He was letting Bucky rub his body against him, because it was as if his body was in autopilot.

He was watching himself as Bucky was unbuttoning his shirt.

He was watching himself as Bucky was laying his lips all over his neck, his shoulder, his stomach.

He was watching himself as Bucky was fucking him.

And the last thing he remembers thinking in his drunken haze, _Tony_.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve Rogers could be described as a mountain of things this morning: groggy and hungover, certainly. He was just surrounded by dread, and no one was dreading this more than himself.

He whimpers as the light finally registered into his eyes, it savagely attacked. The curtains certainly helped nothing, the thin fabric allowed the sun to filter through and the visible shapes at last seemed much more recognisable as the room unveiled itself.

The coat stand where he'd deposited his jacket the night before.

The remains of the extinguished flames on the simple brick fireplace and he recalled sitting beside, letting the fire and the alcohol warm his blood. He even found himself remembering the worn out armchair he'd sat in the previous night.

Then the ground below him disappeared and swallowed him whole, guzzling ever bone he had left. Well that was what it felt of. The armchair was laying on the ground, it had been knocked over in the rush to the bed, in the rush of removing clothing, in the rush to destroy everything Steve had been working towards with Tony. Oh yeah, Tony. The burn of the rising bile was climbing his asophagus, ready for him to throw up as he turned in his awkward position. Beside himself was Bucky.

He never went to see Bucky Barnes after that. And he would make sure he never saw Bucky Barnes ever again.

Steve hails the first taxi he could find to make his journey back home. The driver natters on about his son or something. In regular circumstances he would probably join him in the mindless conversation, now he finds that he can't muster the spirit to even fake care. He brought his thoughts to Tony, it was his fault, it was completely his doing. And now everything was in ruins. Looking back, he hadn't showed much care towards the younger man for weeks and what little time they had together, they hadn't really been together. He only ever visited Tony if he wanted sex recently, somewhere along the way they forgot how to be together, nowadays they never went out to eat, never spent days just lying around in each other's company, never really having affectionate conversations over something trivial. He couldn't remember the last time they talked, without anyone shouting, without anyone losing their temper. He had to fix this, he needed to, for both their sakes.

"Oh look, it's that Stark guy- uh, the young one."

That got his attention. "Where?" he shouts.

"He was walking along the pavement." it was obvious the volume of Steve's voice was alarming him.

"Stop the cab!"

"Hey fella, we can't ju-"

"Just do it!" his eyes grew rabid like a wild dog and the driver couldn't do anything but obey.

He throws some notes towards the driver, he had never run with so much purpose in his life.

Steve grabs the shoulder and gently turns the body around and there was Tony and he looked like he hadn't slept for a long time, he looked as tired as Steve felt.

"Hey." he whispers. He had so much he was going to say, so many scenarios in which they would meet like this. And when it came down to it, his throat closed up and he was left with nothing to say, because what he saw was pain. Tony seemed as if he may cry, and Tony Stark never cried. "Tony, I'm so sorry. So fucking sorry." He stepped forward, opening his arms.

Only to be gently pushed back. "Not here."

Steve looks at him with confusion. He looks around.

Oh. Steve remembers that this neighbourhood was never a friendly one, riddled with gangs of violent thugs, they were clawling around the two as if vultures. All of them were almost twice the size of Steve and Tony, all of them were watching.

"Sorry." Tony mumbles. "I- I'm sorry for last night, I overreacted. You're right, if you want to fight for the country, you should. I shouldn't have-"

"Tony listen. You can't apologise for anything. You've done nothing wrong. I've messed everything up. If you never want to speak to me, I'll understand."

"What are you talking about?" questions Tony. "You punched me, it's not like I've never been-"

"I slept with Bucky." And there it was.

It was as if he had punched Tony in the stomach, because the tears finally spilt.

"You stupid shit."

"Tony, let me explain."

"No." the frightening thing was that Tony was whispering. And he was walking away now.

Steve follows him, once again grabbing his shoulder, his hand is violently nudged off. And he hears Tony shouting "Listen you fag, I don't want you."

And the neighbourhood scum are threatening him, he doesn't listen to any of it because he is left in shock of everything that had just happened. He expected tears, he expected anger, he never expected this kind of betrayal. He watched Tony walk away fron him, even when he was lying on the pavement, being booted several times until he was left bleeding and bruised.


End file.
